THE HORSES
Mari is standing before me, but something is wrong. Her hair is shining too brightly, her eyes are too large.
Mari, I say, but my voice comes out in bubbles through the air. She holds out her arms to me.
Ami, can you help me?
Two limp fish are growing from her wrists, their eyes flat and dead in the moonlight. I back away as she advances. Suddenly she fades and Nanay is there, waist-high in fast-flowing water. Her mouth opens and closes out of time with her words.
Ami, can you help me?
I can’t get to her in time. The river is rising and as I reach out all I scoop up is water, and I’m calling her . . .
Ami, can you hear me?
Mari’s voice is back, and Nanay is fading into a slow light.
‘Ami, can you hear me?’
I am beginning to feel my body again, drawing itself up around me as if through mud. Nanay is gone.
‘Ami, wake up!’
I open my eyes and Mari is there, really there, in a colourless, uncertain morning light, nudging me. My hand is trailing in the river, numb with cold. I pull it out and sit up, shaking my head to rid it of the images.
‘You were having a bad dream,’ she says. Kidlat is clinging to her tunic, his eyes frightened.
‘It’s all right. I was asleep,’ I say, more to myself than to him. ‘It was just a dream.’
But it felt true, in the way that horrible dreams do, though I can see for myself that Nanay is not there and Mari has one hand that looks like mine, and another that is nothing like a fish.
‘We should go,’ she says, holding out a piece of jackfruit. The sweetness hits my nostrils and turns my stomach but my mouth is horribly dry. I take it and eat as Mari pockets the fish-gutting flint and brings me the basin to re-tie on my back. As I do so the vision of Nanay waist-deep in water rises and clings to my skin, and it must show in my face because Mari pulls Kidlat along in my wake without another word.
The heat is increasing every minute, the air full of that thickness that means the rains are another day closer. The sky is a smooth grey through the trees above us, the sun’s light flattened across the tops of the clouds that formed in the night. I focus on the river, the way it is flowing from Culion Town, and how every step upriver is a step closer to Nanay. I try very hard not to think of her in pain, in the hospital, surrounded by strangers from the Places Outside.
‘Ami, can we slow down a bit?’
I turn around and see Mari and Kidlat far behind. I thought I had only walked a short way, but I can no longer see the clearing where we slept, only more and more branches and trunks and beams of sunlight pushing down like fingers through the shade. I stop and take a few deep gulps of air as they catch up.
My body feels tight, and my hands are shaking. I bunch them into fists so Mari won’t see, but of course she notices. I liked her watchfulness when I met her, but right now it feels like nosiness. Kidlat seems to have decided she is his new favourite, and something approaching anger wells inside me. When we arrived on Coron it was my hand he reached for. Now Mari is shielding him slightly, as if I’m a snake. She barely knows him. And why did he follow us in the first place? We could be moving far faster without him.
I bite my teeth together hard to stop any of the thoughts coming out, but Mari is looking at me with her light eyes as though she can see inside my head. I turn away without a word and carry on along the river, shortening my stride and feeling angrier with every step. I wish I were alone, I wish I could run ahead without having to worry about a five-year-old keeping up . . .
Stop, I tell myself firmly. It’s not their fault. No one’s to blame except Mr Zamora, who took me away, and the government that sent him, and, more than either of those, it’s what is in my nanay’s blood, in her skin, taking her piece by piece.
I slow my pace a little more and fall into step beside Mari. Kidlat is holding her hand on the other side but she links her arm through mine and squeezes.
‘It’s going to be all right, Ami,’ she says fiercely. ‘We’re going to make good time. We’re not going to be caught. We’re going to make it back.’
She stops there, because she cannot promise how Nanay will be when we arrive. I return the squeeze with the crook of my elbow.
We only stop when Kidlat’s stomach starts to growl loudly enough we can hear it over the river and our footsteps. Mari finds some more jackfruit and we eat one each, the juice dripping down our chins. The flies begin hovering about our faces so we wash them in the river. The water is cool and clean and I think briefly how it is a shame I am only just learning about these forests now, when all I want is to be out of them, back at home.
Kidlat has still not said a word but he seems calmer. He seems to know that it is important we keep going, as he matches our pace. But as the hours pass and the sun reaches the top of the sky he slows down, and by mid-afternoon we are taking one step to every three of his. His bottom lip begins to tremble and we stop.
‘I could carry him?’ says Mari, looking at my anxious face, but I shake my head. The need to get back to Nanay is mine, and it is my fault we are going so fast. I untie the basin from my back and retie it around Mari, then crouch down for him to climb on to my back. He wraps his arms around my shoulders as Mari begins to sing in a soft, clear voice, a song I’ve never heard before. The tune is gentle but with an undercurrent of sadness, and I don’t understand the words.
‘What language is that?’
‘Spanish. My parents used to sing it to me.’ She smiles sadly. ‘That’s one of the reasons I think they loved me. You don’t sing to someone you don’t love, do you?’
I shake my head. ‘And they taught you fishing and boats. I’m sure your parents loved you. I’m sure they only gave you away because they had no choice.’ Like Nanay had to let me go.
‘I hope so.’ Mari looks away.
‘And it’s a lovely song they left you. What does it mean?’
She smiles at me. ‘If you don’t know what it means, how do you know it’s lovely? I could be singing, “I hate you and you smell” for all you know.’
‘Is that what it means?’
She laughs and shakes her head, then sings it again, in Tagalog this time.
Find me a boat and we’ll float to the sea,
Come, little one, come, there is so much to be.
The world is so big and there’s so much to see,
Come, little one, come and go floating with me.
I join in after the second time and we walk to the rhythm, Kidlat humming tunelessly near my ear. We sing it faster and faster, our pace increasing until we are nearly running and I have to stop and put Kidlat down because I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.
Then Mari is pressing her hand against my mouth hard. I choke on a breath and start to cough but she pushes her wrist over her hand and shushes me urgently. I swallow down the cough and listen.
Horses. There are horses nearby, and men talking. I can hear the low burr of their voices, and hooves scuffing the path. We flatten ourselves to the ground, trying not to rustle too much, as three sets of hooves appear through the trunks to our left. I don’t know how we have curved so close to the path without noticing. They are far enough away to stop me panicking, but still my heart thumps wildly as if it is trying to burrow into the ground.
‘We would’ve seen them by now, surely?’ says a man’s voice I recognize. My skin tingles. Bondoc. ‘We should turn back, Mr Zamora.’
Kidlat lets out a tiny gasp and I pull him closer, too scared to try to catch sight of Bondoc.
‘Maybe we should,’ says another familiar voice. Doctor Tomas sounds tired. ‘We’ve found no trace.’
‘They are here somewhere!’ Mr Zamora’s voice is furious. ‘I saw them sailing out—’
‘How could children sail all that way?’ snaps Bondoc impatiently. ‘If this is a cover-up for something you’ve done—’
‘I’ve done nothing. You think I’d return to this disgusting island if I knew where—’
There is a scuffling noise.
‘Let go!’ says Mr Zamora.
‘Bondoc—’ Doctor Tomas warns. There is a silence.
‘What am I meant to tell Tala?’ says Bondoc finally, his voice breaking.
Mari grips my hand tightly. Tell. He said ‘tell’. That means she’s still alive. A huge lump rises in my throat. I want to laugh and cry all at once.
‘That leper woman?’ Mr Zamora’s voice is taunting, and I hear another scuffle.
‘Bondoc, no!’ says Doctor Tomas. ‘Mr Zamora, please refrain from saying such th—’
‘We’re wasting time,’ says Bondoc. ‘He must be lying.’
‘I am not. We should press on.’
I press my cheek to the ground so I can see up to their waists. Bondoc’s fists are clenching and unclenching. Doctor Tomas is standing between him and Mr Zamora’s thin legs.
Bondoc grunts. ‘Fine. Let me get some water first.’
Beside me I feel Mari slither backwards, and Kidlat turns and crawls quickly away. I am slower, still dazed by their mention of Nanay.
‘Ami!’ hisses Mari, tugging my foot. I come to my senses and move to join them behind the trees but it is too late.
Bondoc’s mouth falls open. Then he presses his lips tight and I see tears start in his eyes.
‘Hurry up, Bondoc!’
We both jump, and he shouts, ‘Coming!’ his voice cracking slightly.
He crouches down and splashes the water so it sounds like drinking as he murmurs, ‘Ami, thank goodness. Are you well?’
I nod.
‘Are the other two with you?’
Another nod.
‘You beautiful, brilliant girl.’ He is shaking. He reaches out across the water and we brush fingertips. ‘Did you hear? I’m with that awful man. I can’t say I’ve seen you. You’re all safe?’ Two more nods, my eyes wide.
‘Stay that way. I’ll tell her you’re coming. You’re not far now.’ He splashes his face to hide his tears, then takes an unfeigned gulp of water from his cupped hand. Taking a deep breath, he straightens and walks stiffly back in the direction of the others. I blink stupidly after him. Just before he reaches the path he takes two steps back. His hand comes up in a fast arc, and throws something.
A book of matches from the tavern lands by my feet. By the time I’ve picked it up he is swinging himself into his saddle. I see feet kick the horses into action and they ride back the way they came. Mari runs to me from the shelter of the tree.
‘Ami!’ Her voice sounds feverish. ‘What happened? What did he say?’
I hold up the book of matches dumbly and she stares. Kidlat comes and kneels beside us, thumb back in his mouth. I clear my throat and answer Mari’s questions.
She blows out her cheeks. ‘You have the luck of the devil, Ami.’
I grin, the shock fading, leaving a manic giddiness bubbling in my stomach. ‘I thought you didn’t believe in the devil.’
She grins too. ‘I don’t believe in things I can’t see, Ami. And I met Mr Zamora same as you.’
I snort and pull her to her feet. I go to lift Kidlat but he shakes his head and begins walking. Mari raises her eyebrows and links her arm through mine. ‘After you, sir.’ She makes a low bow, dragging me into it with her. The boy giggles.
Something has lifted from my shoulders. Seeing Bondoc, his gift of matches, and his whispered not far now are like points of heat on my skin, driving my steps, giving me hope. We don’t talk about Nanay or Mari’s parents or anything sad. Kidlat and Mari seem to be in a better mood too, so much so that when the moon comes up Mari suggests we walk through the night.
I want to, but I can tell Kidlat is exhausted, and I don’t think I can manage to carry him after so much walking. We stop and set Kidlat to collecting some wood for the fire while Mari and I catch and gut another fish. I manage to drop the stone myself this time, though I have to close my eyes.
I light the small stack of twigs with one of Bondoc’s matches. Kidlat wants to try lighting a match so I let him have two, both of which snap and fall either into the fire or the river. We watch the flames grow and then shrink to a reddish, glowing heat. We pick absent-mindedly at the fish so by the time the fire is hot enough to cook it, we’ve eaten it raw. Kidlat is half-asleep, so I shift him away from the flames and Mari rinses the basin in the river.
There’s a faint buzzing nearby, and the fire’s glow picks out a pale cone hanging in a tree across the river. I swallow hard. Wasps have always scared me, ever since Nanay smoked a nest out from our wall when I was little. It was behind my bed, and at night I could hear them buzzing. I thought I was imagining things until Nanay was stung slapping the broom against the wall outside. They all rose up in a tide and she was lucky to be stung only twice, once on her wrist and again on her neck. She pumped the wall full of smoke and then there were hundreds of dead bodies behind my bed. Rotted to dust now, probably, and all the tunnels empty.
‘You all right, Ami?’ asks Mari and I realize I was far away.
‘Sort of,’ I say after a moment’s silence.
‘Good enough,’ she says, and curls up next to Kidlat. I lie down on the other side of him and she reaches over the sleeping boy to squeeze my hand. I squeeze it back and she lets it rest in mine for a long moment before turning over and whispering, ‘Goodnight.’
I think of Lihim, abandoned on the beach, the tide taking our secret and burying it in the sand. Sleep comes choppy as waves.